


Margaritas

by cadey (haekass)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haekass/pseuds/cadey
Summary: They had some truly smashing margaritas to get smashed with.





	Margaritas

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from the Unfortunate Orphaning.

The two people at the end of the couch were absolutely plastered. They were hanging onto each other, laughing hysterically as they both cried as they laughed, tears streaming down their faces as they tried vailiantly not to throw up the alcohol they had already ingested.

"Oh! I don't think," the brown-haired lady replied, hiccupping at the end of her words, "that I can take much more of this. We need to quit remembering so many funny stories, Harry!"

Harry snorted as he swallowed once to keep the tequila in his stomach, where it belonged. He pulled off his glasses and wiped his tearing eyes before replacing the spectacles on the end of his nose. "I know, but they're all so much funnier when drunk."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, taking in the cheeks rosy with the blush of alcohol, to the shirt that was almost baring her assets to the world, down to the almost ridiculously short skirt she was wearing. And the mere sight of her bra-covered breasts gave him an almost instant erection.

"Um, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at him, her eyes drowsy. "Yes Harry?"

"You, ah, might want to cover up a bit. Wouldn't want any other guy getting ideas about you."

Hermione blinked in confusion as she looked around the empty living room. "But Harry, you're the only guy in here."

Harry looked around as well, almost taking in his surroundings as if they were new to him. "I am?" Another look around. "Oh, I am." He thought for a moment. "Still you might want to cover up."

Hermione waved her hand as her other reached for the half-empty margarita glass sitting on the sofa behind her. It pulled her shirt tighter across her breasts, and Harry licked his lips. She took another healthy drink before setting the glass back down. Then her hands went down to the buttons on her shirt. "Why? It's so bloody hot in here." She slipped two buttons open before Harry could move from his frozen position. He reached out a hand to stop her, but in his inebriated state, the hand that had been going out to stop her hands instead landed directly on her breast.

He had squeezed the plump mound of flesh before even thinking about where his hand was. He felt her stiffen up - she was drunk, but not completely mindless. He opened his mouth to apologize, but it was cut off before it even began as Hermione moved forward, catching him off-guard, her lips sealed to his.

Before he knew it, Hermione had her tongue in his mouth, her body in his lap, moving against him erotically.

He thought for a fleeting instant about breaking off the kiss and returning them to a world of sanity, but that thought died as quickly as well as a few thousand of his brain cells when Hermione cupped his erection through his trousers.

Further thought became impossible as all of the blood that was in his head quickly settled in his lap. And Hermione certainly wasn't complaining. His addled mind fought to remember how to correctly work fastenings on a button down shirt, as well as the tricky mechanisms of a bra. Finally getting his fingers to cooperate, they slipped the rest of the buttons of her shirt apart, nearly tearing the material from her body in his haste to have her naked. As soon as the shirt was halfway down her arms, he took advantage of her momentary helplessness to work on her bra. Hook-front enclosure. He had learned the mechanics of this one while still in sixth year. Luck happened to be with him as well. He got it right first try, which, given the three sheets to the wind state he was in, was something of a miracle.

Pushing the bra off swiftly, he pulled his mouth from Hermione's and promptly attached his lips to her left breast. Using his teeth to lightly scrape the nipple, he heard Hermione moan above him, so he assumed that he was doing that right at least. While he suckled at Hermione's breasts, occasionally altering between the two in a random pattern even he wasn't aware of, his hands were busy pulling her skirt up.

And it seemed that Hermione wanted to get into his pants as much as he wanted to get underneath her skirt. He settled his hands on her bare arse, surprised greatly by the lack of clothing.

His mouth let go of her breast, and saliva connected the two for another moment before breaking contact. "Well, well, Miss Granger. Where are your knickers?"

She shrugged as eloquently as she could. "I must have taken them off at sometime. I think..." her voice trailed off. "Yes, I remember taking them off and leaving them in your WC not more than twenty minutes ago, just before you made these absolutely smashing margaritas."

He shrugged too, almost unbalancing the both of them. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Hermione had wanted to take her knickers off, then by God, she would have her knickers off. Made work easier for him. He wouldn't have to get her to move so he could tear the damn knickers off, anyway. Now all that was left were his trousers. Bloody things. Always conspiring against him. If he could put a worldwide ban on trouser wearing, especially at moments like this, he would.

But Hermione was beyond clever, and somehow, he wasn't really sure he wanted to know how - especially how she learned to do that - but she had his zipper down and his erection rising proudly from what looked to be the reamins of his trousers.

Smart woman.

"And just where are your knickers, Harry?"

He pouted at her. "You know I don't wear the blasted things anymore. I like a healthy breeze."

She started laughing again, which caused him to start laughing, and if he wasn't badly mistaken, that was how they ended up in this position in the first place.

"Shall we?" he asked as soon as their laughter died down.

Hermione scrunched up her face. "It's a damn good thing alcohol does wonders for my libido, Harry, otherwise I'd be reminding you of a wonderful thing called foreplay."

He stuck his tongue out at her, to which she replied by guiding him to her entrance and sinking down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

"Oh fuck," they both said.

"Too good," Harry added on.

"Far too good," she agreed.

He suddenly thrust upwards, sending her head back, her breasts bouncing lightly. She was so wet around him, so hot, he knew he wouldn't last for six strokes. So he gently felt down, the unexpected feeling of feeling himself sliding into Hermione was a thrill, kind of like giving himself a hand job, but with a woman around him as well. But he continued on, moving over to Hermione and gently feeling about.

She was already rising, taking with her the wonderful sensations, and then sliding back down. After a couple of prodding tries, he finally felt what had to be her clit. Well, she moaned louder, so that had to be it. Now he just needed to remember what to do with it.

"Rub, Harry. In circles."

"Oh yeah!"

He put words into action and rubbed her clit in circles.

"Much better." Her words were broken by her moans, so he had to assume that he was doing it the right way.

So he kept rubbing while she kept rising and falling on him, until he thought that he could hold it no longer...

She finally came around him, just a fraction of a second before he thrust his hips up and came with a hoarse cry.

The next minute or so was spent in dazed memory recall. Was that really...? Did they just...? Why was there still two almost empty margarita glasses? That had to be stopped.

As one, they each picked up their glass and toasted each other.

"We need to do this while we're not drunk."

"Why'zat?"

"Because I want to know if you really do know the meaning of foreplay."

He snorted into his glass. "I'll have you know, Miss Granger, that I will be holding your hair back as tonight revisits you in the morning, and as soon as both of our hangovers wear off, I will prove to you that I do know the true value of foreplay."


End file.
